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this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation
he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last
time in history with something commensurate to his capac-
ity for wonder.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world,
I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the
green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long
way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so
close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know
that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast
obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the re-
public rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future
that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but
that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out
our arms farther.... And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back
ceaselessly into the past.
THE END